


All I Have Needed Has Been You

by OfWhelpsAndWizards



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Anger, Budding Romance, F/M, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gore, NPCs have feelings too!, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Sarcasm, Syl'Themar, Trust Issues, Wine, inspired by a song, there needs to be more of this lovely couple., these two could make a great BBC sitcom., witty humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfWhelpsAndWizards/pseuds/OfWhelpsAndWizards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your raid group of adventurers just got the achievement "Downing the Dark Lady." Forgetting about Lor'themar (who?) you take the zeppelin to Orgrimar. Sylvanas is left to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Have Needed Has Been You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by : "All I Ask of You." By Andrew Llyod Webber. We need more World of Composers. 
> 
> Link to original song==>  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=oBXbxIfIRwk

It was dark, and it was cold; for a city known for death and atrocity, it was one of the days which it truly lived up to its expectations.

She sat in the middle of her throne room, her most loyal Deathguard having given their lives a second time defending her, her last Val'Kyr, Agatha, whose remnants lay at her feet, gave her life to pull Sylvanas once again from the bleak abyss that awaited all of the Forsaken… There was no more, how could her people go on? A band of adventurers seeking treasure had doomed an entire race, not that the Forsaken weren't used to it by now. The dark abyss haunted her, having visited it in the past four times. Not only forsaken in life to die, but in death forsaken from eternal peace, there was no afterlife for them, only eternal damnation for crimes they had committed under Arthas' control. 

Composing herself, she took back up her bow, retrieved each arrow and sheathed the poisoned weapons in her quiver. She would have to organize funerals for them, she wouldn't burn them in case she found more Val'Kyr, maybe an open casket viewing, then place them in formaldehyde in the Apothecarium. Some of the corpses were beyond saving, mauled, battered, and beaten far passed what necrosurgeons could hope to repair. One was missing his left leg, and although in death it had been quite bony, it appeared a hunter's companion made off with it, scratch marks evidence enough. While the gore would phase most, Sylvanas could not even feel the slightest bit of repulsion, having lived it for the last fifteen years. 

Yes, you couldn't get much more different than the luxuriousness of Silvermoon to the Undercity. Not only where the color schemes ghastly when compared, but the refined and goth looks contrasted far too much. 

The sounds of feet marching and clanking plate armor could be heard from the hall leading to her throne room. If the adventurers had come back for a second attack, she was in deep trouble. Readying her bow and notching it with an arrow, she prepared to fight, she would bring plenty down with her.

"Sylvanas, we were sent word of an attack on Undercity by Nathanos, was the raid an exaggeration or- dear Sunwell!" Lor'themar and his guards surveyed the slaughter as Sylvanas put down her weapon, still keeping the arrow notched. 

"Regent Lord, how punctual of you to come once the battle is over. Thank you for your concern." It was always like this, she fights, she dies, and he still stands because he was at the right place at the right time. He was always lucky, even when captured by Trolls he managed to escape with little more than a couple novice priests. And she, the ever unlucky. Where she had gotten in both life, and death she had achieved through hard labor. Not circumstance or acquaintances.

"If I had known it was this dire, I would have assembled the troops and reached the Orb of Translocation sooner." It was always like this, she fights, dies, and he deals with the aftermath. When he lives, he does so by relying on others, and she solemnly alone. 

The silence was tenuous while the guards did cleanup alongside the Forsaken spell casters to say the least. They should have been discussing changes to the corridors, closing off the sewer hatch, and the susceptibility of Silvermoon should Undercity fall. Instead, they stood two feet apart and shifted awkwardly from side to side, neither remembering what it was like to shout boisterously together at parties, or to drunkenly sing out ballads before a battle with Trolls, Orcs, or any of which they were now allied to. Funny how fate weaves the story of their people, tragic heroes and spineless cowards alike. 

"So, how are you faring? You look no worse for ware, but you can be quite deceiving." It was Lor'themar who spoke first, his face devoid of emotion as he did so.

"I am fine at the moment, my problems however must be heard only by my advisor's ears." 

"What, I'm not your most trusted anymore?" Although it was meant to be joshing, it struck a deep untouched cord within both of them; how easily their friendship had fallen to ruin after so many years spent side by side in the forests of Quel'thalas. 

"As this does concern you in the matter, and you know better than to use this knowledge for your own machinations, I have lost my last Val'Kyr. My people are heading towards a steep decline, and I with them. My people cannot conceive children, as you have heard me say before. Once this generation expires, we will be gone from this world to eternal void." 

He was taken back by this, not only were the Forsaken vulnerable, but she was sharing this information with him after she blackmailed him into the Northrend campaign? Had she really taken the jest to heart, or was there a deeper motive? "Sylvanas, after your help in rebuilding Silvermoon, we could offer you aid in re fortifying your city after the initial damage report." 

"I do not need you to guard me Lor, that's a thing of the past. All I need is stone for closing the sewer gates." It was, a time long past. He remembered when he was the captain of the farstriders, and how he would draw attention from Sylvanas as she fired her arrows at those who attacked him. 

They were quite good when it came to team missions back then...

Looking at Lor'themar, and the way his nose scrunched up as an abomination carried some corpses out of the room, an old habit emerged. "Do you want to come into my personal study while your guards work. In case rogues remain in the city it will be better guarded, and private for our conversations." 

"Yes please, and by chance do you have a scented candle? Stinks down here, no offense but your people are rotting." Sylvanas looked at him in a mixture of annoyance and incredulity as she tapped her nose. 

"You know I lost a majority of my senses, Regent Lord." Turning around and walking down the raised ramp, she came to the back wall. To many it would just look like a regular stone wall, but there was something irregular about it. Many cities were built on top of their predecessors, each becoming a sewer for the next, Lorderon was no exception. The Undercity had many hidden rooms, corridors, and secrets: this was just one of them. Tapping one stone three times, a mana field dispelled, and a door was in its place.

"Come in, come in." It was much nicer than the rest of the Undercity,  
Yet still dark. When a race of people are colorblind, it's amazing when they can manage to have tailors. The room was well furnished in dark woods, and silver candelabras. Instead of bare stone there was green shag carpet, and Forsaken tapestries garnished the walls. There were quite a few bookshelves containing both war maps, folk lore, (and was that a Steamy Romance novel?). 

"Like what you have done, much more... Cozy." The Regent at alias for words? It must be either the end of the world or this was all a bad dream and she would wake up in Silvermoon shortly. "So, for the stone you shall bolster your troops on the border, and add more bodies to the zeppelin. This city does allow access to each city of the Horde, and thus surveillance cannot be lax." 

"Very well Lor'themar, After we expelled most of Garrosh's guards it became apparent that many of the old guards had already set up shop in other professions. I will simply have my Dark Rangers up the training number." Now this was like old times. Lor'themar taking the defensive approach after targeting priorities, and Sylvanas using her influence as general to get the stuff done, passed, and put into effect. 

"I do not have much in the ways of food, seeing as how we really don't need it, but would you like some apples or mushrooms? I promise neither are poisonous." With a catlike grin she moved over to the engraved cabinet, inside there were mushrooms, and what at a time must have been apples. "Ugh, well, we have mushrooms." 

Looking inside the cabinet he spied a bottle of blood wine, and pulled it out. "I know wine isn't the same for you anymore, but after this hellish day I think it would do us luck." As he set it down on the table, Sylvanas brought out two iron chalices, no doubt remnants from Lorderon's chapel. 

"So, will I be saying you around more often with the stone? You seldom visit Undercity."

"Possibly, if you do invest in scented candles." It had been a very long time since Sylvanas had allowed herself to smile, her walls built up over the years so that no one could hurt her again. Still, the gates seem to part only for a few people. This would end badly, she knew it, but why not enjoy what was left of her miserable existence while she was still here?

"A toast, to future exploits and fortune." As they clinked their full glasses they sat down, the silence filled not with fighting, or planning, but reminiscence for a time that might not have been as long past as both had thought. 

Maybe it was simply the first step to a new beginning.


End file.
